I Don't Want to be Lost Again
by idontunderstandthequestion
Summary: Jake leaves L.A. in hopes of starting fresh, leaving behind what he loves most. In the small town he moves too, however, he happens to find what he's been longing for. Unfortunately, it all comes crashing down. Jiley
1. Chapter 1

** So I happen to think there are way too many Jonas brothers fanfics going on. We need a little more Jiley, like back in the day. And in order to fulfill that desire, I've written you this. Hope you enjoy!- Mikella**

It had been three years. And yet, it seemed like it was only yesterday. All of the events that had taken place, the memories that had formed, were crystal clear in my mind. I could recount every word that was spoken, how I felt, the exact outfit I was wearing. But despite all of this, I wanted desperately for it to leave. I had tried, believe me. I had spent hours trying to distract myself, using anything that might even remotely grab my attention.

First off, I enrolled in karate. Hey, I figured, what's the harm? A little exercise throughout the week might do me good since I had just spent the last five weeks wallowing in self pity on my couch. The third day I came out with a fractured wrist. I never went back.

I then turned to books. I had always loved reading as a child but my busy schedule as I got older kept me away. I joined a book club with all of the other old and single women of Paisley, Oregon. I loved the stories and discussions, but eventually I fell too far behind. As a sat down to read the assigned novel, I would find myself distracted, my mind falling back to her. I stopped going to the meetings, not bothering to call.

I finally took up my old passion of acting. The local theatre was doing a version of Peter Pan, a classic. Once again, I could find nothing wrong with that. I auditioned the next month and got the part of one of the pirate thugs. I begged the casting director not to put me in the lead just because of my background and she grudgingly agreed. I didn't want to be the star, even though I was fully capable of carrying the weight of the main role. I just wanted to be involved in the community somehow. And most importantly, keep myself occupied.

My family was ecstatic that I was at last happy again. I noticed it too. At least somewhat. Opening night came and the whole cast was prepared. It wasn't until the final act that everything went wrong. Just as I was about to fall from the ship, having been defeated by the magnificent Peter, I noticed that the loyal stage hands had forgotten to place the soft mat on the floor to protect my fall. But it was too late. My scream echoed loudly in the theatre as I plummeted to what I thought was almost certain death. I didn't die, fortunately, only a concussion. I told the director to get a new pirate.

As you can tell, my desperate attempts were in vain. I found myself once again remembering that day three years ago. I couldn't seem to get it out of my mind. And every time I looked at my son, the memories flashed back. He had her eyes, bright green with a hint of blue and always sparkling. His dark brown hair was thick and full, even as a newborn, just like hers. At times, I could no longer take it. Tears filled my eyes whenever I saw the resemblance. How could she have left me? Why would she do this to me, her husband? Most of all, how could she have done this to her son? She hadn't even gotten to know him yet.

I shoved my hands deeper into my coat pockets. The chilling wind was picking up as dark gray clouds loomed in the distance. I stared at the hard stone for a moment longer. The yellow daisies I had brought rested beside it. They seemed less bright all of a sudden, less cheery as they had been in the grocery store. She had always loved yellow daisies, but now even her favorite flower couldn't supply the happiness I longed for. I sighed. It was of no use. Nothing could bring her back, no matter how hard I tried.

You see, three years ago, my wife was killed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's capitolo numero due. Have some fun with it- Mikella**

Five years earlier my life was a wreck. Well, to me it was. To the world, I had it all: the cars, the house, the job, even the girl. I had it made.

I had just won an Oscar for best leading actor. Everyone was praising me wherever I went. No longer was I the young teen heart-throb that had his face on every teen magazine. I was a man now. Casting directors saw me as a seasoned actor and finally started taking me seriously. The new roles came slowly at first. Many weren't sure that I could handle a dramatic plot and character. I proved them wrong.

The months passed after my win and the gigs flowed in. My manager and agent could barely keep up with the demands. Every director in Hollywood wanted me. I, however, holed up in my Beverly Hills bachelor pad. All of a sudden, the whole stardom thing didn't appeal anymore. My award no longer filled me with pride, just emptiness. What did it really mean? That a bunch of old guys sitting around staring at movies all day long happened to like me?

My agent called me nonstop, but I never answered. I didn't feel bad nor do I regret what I did to him. I was done with the spotlight, I needed some fresh air. And so, in my attempt to shut myself out from the world, I hurt the very person I loved most.

I left L.A. in November. Only my agent and my family knew I was leaving. I also had no idea where I was going. Since my parents and younger sister lived in Napa, California, I decided to be nearer to them. Ever since my fame had sky rocketed, we had grown farther apart. I wanted that close relationship back that we had shared when I was younger.

Of course, my mother was thrilled. At long last her little boy was coming home. Unfortunately, I broke the news to her that I wasn't planning on living with them. She told me of a small town in southern Oregon that wasn't far from Napa. Her brother, Christian, had lived there for several years before he had moved back to Sacramento. I took her advice and drove up to check it out.

The drive was short, only about three hours. As the car wound through the snow capped mountains, I realized how grateful I was that I had left the fame behind. The scenery was beautiful and definitely something you would never find in L.A. It was then, as the winding road offered a first glimpse of the quiet town of Paisley did I know that it was perfect. I definitely was not going back.

I loved to take walks, and Paisley was the perfect place to do so. I would wander down random roads and side streets until I eventually knew every short cut in town. Doing this, I also got to know a lot of the residents there. They would always stop and talk to you, telling you every slight detail about their day. And, most importantly, I always listened. One lady in particular got to know me very well.

It became a sort of tradition. Every Saturday morning I would go the same way. First I would leave my house, take a right onto Caley Avenue and then three blocks later a left onto Easton. This happened to be the street where Mrs. Scott lived. She was widowed and aging. I guessed her to be around 70 years old. But, she was the nicest lady in town. Each Saturday morning I would stop by her place and we would chat for up to an hour. The conversations were always relaxed and humorous. Mostly it was Mrs. Scott telling random stories about her and her deceased husband, Kip, and their many adventures. Then, she would invite me in for tea and scones. They were always delicious and fresh from the oven. Here, our conversation would continue, usually with me telling stories of my own past. She loved these moments and took everything in. Her questions sometimes stumped me, leaving me with no particular explanation for why I had done something.

"So you just got up and left? Not even caring for that girl... what's her name?"

The question had been innocent enough. Mrs. Scott just wanted to know why, but I couldn't tell her. Even I didn't know. I did, however, manage to stutter out a lame excuse that I knew wasn't a worthy answer.

"I just couldn't handle it any more. None of the celebrity status appealed to me. Instead of being happy and feeling successful, I just felt drained. As for Hannah…" I looked down, ashamed. I couldn't finish my sentence and the pain took over me. It haunted me everyday, the horror at what I had done to her. Just left her there with no call, no nothing. She must hate me.

Mrs. Scott seemed to understand. She gently rubbed my back, trying her best to comfort me, "Don't be so glum, dear. I'm sure everything will work out in the end. Don't you go around sulking making your life even worse. In the mean time, my granddaughter is coming to town. I think it would be great if you two would meet. She's been off at college in Portland and she's very beautiful."

"Mrs. Scott…come on. You aren't setting me up, are you?"

"What's wrong with that? You need a woman in your life. You won't always have me, you know. Besides, Norah is very, very nice. You'll absolutely adore her. Did I mention how beautiful she is?"

I laughed, "Mrs. Scott, I don't think so. I still need some time."

I've never realized until recently how right Mrs. Scott was that day. Norah was the most beautiful person I had ever met, if you don't count **her**.


	3. Chapter 3

**I should tell you before you read this chapter that Jake doesn't know that Miley is Hannah Montana. She never told him, so in case you were confused, now you are not. This is a long one, I'm pretty much amazed myself. Have fun kids. -Mikella**

I was taking one of my daily walks, a Michael Crichton novel in my hand. I was planning on reading in the local Paisley park, even though I had read that book several times. It was one of my favorites.

I sat down on a bench covered in the shade of a giant oak tree. The breeze rustled the leaves, sweeping my hair in front of my eyes. I brushed the blonde locks aside. I was in need of a haircut, I knew.

Fifteen minutes into the novel passed by in a flash. The words had captivated me, like they did every other time I had read this book. I was so enraptured that I didn't notice as someone came and sat next to me, their breathing slightly heavy.

You know when someone is staring at you and you can tell but you're not actually looking at them yourself? Well, that's how I felt right then. These two eyes were boring into me and I finally had enough of it.

"Excuse me, do you…" I was totally ready to share my mind with whomever had decided to join me on the park bench, but I just couldn't do it. She just wasn't the person you blow up on.

"I'm sorry," she fumbled, "I really am, it's just that…"

Her pause was familiar. I got it a lot. By now, however, word had spread around Paisley as to who I was, so the shock and astonishment had kind of worn off. Most everybody was completely aware that a big time celebrity was living in their town. I had even done a news interview with the local station just to clear things up. And that had been six months ago.

"You're Jake Ryan," she finished her statement rather bluntly, and I didn't know how to respond.

"Yes. Yes I am. And you are?"

She seemed to be taken off guard for a moment, but she regained her composure, "I'm Norah. Norah Scott. I don't usually live here, but my grandmother did say something about you being here, I just never believed it. Sorry about that."

"Don't be sorry, there's nothing to be sorry about. I'm used to it." I smiled in what I hoped was a reassuring way.

Norah grinned back, her brilliantly white teeth flashing in the sunlight. It was then that I finally took in the beauty that had first silenced my tirade. She was no ordinary girl, that was for sure. The way she sat, even in running shorts and an old Paisley High School t-shirt, was elegant. Her hands rested gently in her lap, her legs crossed at the ankle, like a little school girl. Dark brown hair fell about her shoulders, perfectly groomed and styled. How could it still look gorgeous? She was out running for goodness sakes. But it did. It was long and healthy, ending just above her waist.

When I looked back to her face again, I noticed a line of freckles across the bridge of her nose. They were joined by a pair of bright green eyes with a hint of blue that sparkled whenever she smiled.

"You must be Mrs. Scott's Norah. She told me all about you."

She blushed deep red and looked away, "Nana Scott, what do you expect? She's always been that way, bragging about all her grandkids to anyone that will listen. I'm sorry you got pulled into that."

"Oh no, I don't mind. I enjoyed it. Mrs. Scott is a great story teller."

"I know. We used to stay up late as kids just listening to her talk about her travels with Grandpa Kip…" Norah paused here, looking off into the distance. By the look in her eyes, you could tell she was reliving those memories. A hint of a smile played across her lips, small dimples showing on her cheeks.

I stood up and held out my hand to Norah, "Would you like to go on a walk?"

She agreed taking my offered hand. It was warm in mine, soft and smooth.

We walked down the path towards the man-made pond in the center of the park. We walked in silence together. There was no need to talk. Flowers lined the edge of the dirt path, their presence making the moment all the better.

"Yellow daisies." Norah said. "They're my favorite."

When I told my parents I was getting married, they were floored. It's not that I'm not the marrying type. I've always wanted to get married. It's just that the last time I popped the question it didn't end so well. They kind of thought I might want to take a little break from the married life and live a little time on my own. I guess they were wrong. I couldn't imagine my life without Norah.

We were together almost all of the time after our first meeting in the park. We couldn't stay away. It was torture having to say goodbye at night, dropping her off at Mrs. Scott's house. Norah would stay outside as long as possible, until her grandma would come out, her nightgown already on and rollers in her hair, a little irritated that her granddaughter had kept her up late again. We would laugh it off, kissing goodbye. But each time I ran my fingers through that long brown hair, my thoughts kept turning back to the last time I had done that. Then it been blonde, full and thick. Of course, every time I had tried, she would shake me off. She didn't like people messing with her hair, it irked her. This had always disappointed me, but I had sometimes managed to touch it, to run my fingers through the ends, feeling how soft it was, how fresh. But every time my thoughts wandered to **her**, I kicked myself. She was gone now. We were over. I couldn't go back. I was finally happy again, and this time, with Norah.

But what would she say if she ever found out? What would she do if she ever knew that each time I kissed her, I thought of someone else? That each time I held her close, I remembered doing just that with another girl? How every day when I called her, I had already contemplated calling **her** first?

I know it sounds bad. What kind of boyfriend am I? Who in their right mind would think of another girl when they are already with their girlfriend? I couldn't help it. We had been close, very close. We had been the best of friends. Of course it didn't help that we were both famous. The paparazzi loved us almost as much as they loved Brangelina. It was perfect, the two of us. Two big Hollywood stars, hooking up and falling in love. Of course that's how everyone looked at it. Oh, you're famous, you can't fall for a regular girl, you have to go for the other celebrities. But it wasn't like that. It's like we were meant to be. I could tell her anything, and her to me. At times, it was like we weren't even famous, just regular, average teenagers madly in love with each other.

On occasion, she would remind me of a girl I knew at school. They seemed so alike in many ways, their laugh, their smile. They could have been twins. I knew it was impossible, that nothing like that could ever happen. She would have told me anyway if the situation was like that. We were that close and our relationship that trustworthy. But still, it was sometimes freaky. She would mention something that the girl at school had already said, or they would have on very similar outfits. I never did find out the truth. I left the girl at school behind, and chose the pop star as my girlfriend. Sometimes I regret it. I wonder what it would have like, living with a normal girl, a normal life. But I'm not normal and neither was my life. Hannah and I were engaged and the girl from school was out of my mind, if only for a while.

It was a summer afternoon that she came back. I never knew about it until later. Too far later. Norah never mentioned their meeting or what they had talked about. I figured that something had happened when I had returned home that evening but she didn't say anything about it, so I left it alone. It wasn't until after Norah died that I found out the truth. Mrs. Scott told me.

She had come from out of town, looking for the Ryan household. How she had gotten Mrs. Scott's address and not mine was beyond me. Of course, Mrs. Scott told her where Norah and I lived. She was nice, was Mrs. Scott's excuse. Far more beautiful than any girl she had ever seen, including Norah. When she told me this, I was shocked. Usually, the only person worthy of that line was her own granddaughter. Nobody, not even the most beautiful celebrity had ever earned that phrase from Mrs. Scott. I could think of two people who fit that criteria, and since Mrs. Scott hadn't mentioned a blonde pop sensation, it left only one option: the girl from school. She had come back. The reason why, I didn't know.

Since moving to Paisley, I found myself with literally nothing to do. I could only go on walks for so long. And so, in an attempt to occupy my time, I ended up volunteering at the local theatre, teaching classes to the younger kids aspiring to be actors. The other adults there loved it. I gave lessons to any who wanted them, and most of the time for free. Some insisted on paying, even though I told them time and time again that I didn't need it, really. But they never listened.

It was during one of these classes that I was teaching that she came. Norah and I had been married for almost a year and we were happy together. Norah was home alone, having the summer off. She taught at the local elementary school.

Still in search of a summer job, she was sitting at the kitchen table, the classifieds open in front of her. Her mind, however, had wandered away from the jobs and she was now doodling on a napkin. She had managed to list several baby names, both girl and boy, circling her favorites, while others were crossed out. A knock on the door interrupted her. Norah left the names, walking to the door.

She wasn't nervous, it was a small town. Everyone knew everyone, and it wasn't unusual for a neighbor to just stop by for a chat in the middle of the day. When Norah opened the door, though, her face registered some confusion. The person standing in front of her was a complete stranger.

"Hi. I'm looking for Jake Ryan? I hope I have the right house. Mrs. Scott, is that her name? Well, she told me this address, but I'm still not sure… you do look familiar. Oh, that's right, I've seen you in the magazines. You must be Jake's…wife," the last word seemed difficult for the young woman in front of Norah to get out. It was like she despised the word, thinking it disgusting.

Norah just stared at her, the rambling still processing in her mind. "Oh, yes. You have the right house. Can I help you?"

"Yes…umm…is he home?"

"No, not right now. He teaches at the theatre during the summer."

The young woman looked about her, unconsciously twirling her fingers through her wavy hair. It was long and dark, almost like Norah's, but with more volume, more shine. Her makeup was simple, yet it could have passed on the red carpet. She looked comfortable in her short, dark jean shorts that showed off her long legs and a sleeveless shirt that fit snuggly about her torso. How in the world did know this girl, Norah couldn't help but to wonder.

"He teaches?" she scoffed. "He left L.A. to get away from the acting life and ended up just doing it all over again in some second rate community play?" She laughed lightly, letting Norah get a glimpse of her straight white teeth.

"Excuse me, but who are you?"

The question stopped the girl. She turned and looked back at Norah, the sarcasm and joking gone from her demeanor. All of a sudden, she looked vulnerable, yet a hint of anger was sparked in her bright blue eyes. She adjusted the bag hanging from her shoulder and shifted her feet uncomfortably.

"You have to promise not to tell him I was here, Norah." She said this line as if they were friends, as if Norah and this girl had known each other for years. But they weren't. Here they stood, complete strangers with one mutual thing in common. "I'm Miley Stewart. Jake and I used to be…" Miley stopped there, a small tear forming in her eyes.

Norah didn't know what to do, or what to say. She stood there, silent, watching as Miley collected herself. Jake had never before mentioned anyone named Miley, and she was sure she would have remembered anyone with that name.

"Are you okay? Do you need to sit down? I can get…" but she was cut off.

"He left me, did you know that? He left me with no explanation, no nothing. He didn't call, leave a message, write a note. Silence. And then, a few months later I hear he's moved up to some dinky town in who-knows-where Oregon. Oregon for crying out loud! And has he told me yet? Has he thought of me yet? No! And now, here you are. He's fallen in love with another girl and have I heard anything from him? Has he mentioned he was getting married? No! So here I am, left in L.A., humiliated because now the paparazzi follow me everywhere, making up ridiculous stories as to the cause of this mysterious breakup that they can't get any information about. And I have to live with it! Of course, I don't go out as Hannah anymore, no way, not with this fiasco going on. I'd be mobbed the first chance they got. You see, Hannah hasn't been out in public in months and now they think she's gone missing too. And now I have that to worry about, and now I'm here, and I don't know why, and Jake isn't even here to know. He doesn't even know," Miley's rant petered out to a close. She was breathing heavily, tears flowing unashamedly down her cheeks. She looked about the porch, not wanting to look Norah in the face. After all, she had just revealed information she hadn't told anyone except her immediate family and two best friends. Not even Jake knew half the stuff she had just told Norah.

Norah, on the other hand, stood wide-eyed. Jake hadn't told her much about his past as a famous Hollywood celebrity. This was all new to her. Sure, she had heard once or twice that Jake Ryan and Hannah Montana were the new IT couple, but that had been a few years ago. Yet here was Miley, her face red and tear-stained, confirming the worst possible nightmares Norah could have come with about Jake's past.

The two girls sat on the porch, and talked for what seemed like hours. Miley spilled everything to Norah, from being Hannah Montana, to going to school with Jake, to the secret relationship that had been almost too hard to keep from the one person she loved. Norah was heartbroken. She couldn't believe that all this had happened. And yet it had. Jake had broken Miley's heart. What was worse, he didn't even know it. He thought Hannah was still longing for him, when Hannah wasn't even real.

Throughout their talk, Miley grew more and more reserved. She eventually stopped their conversation all together, staring off into the growing night.  
"Jake should be getting home pretty soon, Miley. If you want to leave before he gets here, that's fine," Norah suggested.

Miley didn't answer for a moment, then replied, "Just don't let Jake know I was here."

With no last glance or goodbye, Miley left. Her countenance completely changed from when she had first arrived. Then she had been ready, poised to throw whatever she had at Jake. Now, she was drained. Her will had been sucked out of her. And Norah couldn't help but notice the jealously displayed on Miley's face. The longing for the life that Norah had somehow taken away from her.

This should Miley up here, Norah thought. I don't deserve this. I don't deserve any of this. Miley should be the one to welcome Jake home after a long day of work. Miley should be the one cooking dinner inside right now. Miley should be the one Jake wakes up to each the morning, smiling and beautiful. It should be Miley Jake had married, not me.


	4. Chapter 4

**So I've been out of town these past couple of weeks, hence a short delay. And for those of you who kindly read my story, here is the next installment. I hope you've been looking forward to it. Perhaps you'll be pleased. have at it- Mikella**

The months following Miley's visit where horrible

The months following Miley's visit where horrible. I, of course, didn't know what had happened. Just suddenly that Norah became distant and reserved. She wasn't as open with me anymore. In the evenings we wouldn't sit on the porch swing and talk into the night like we used to. We stopped playing scrabble on Tuesday mornings because we had nothing better to do. She just wasn't…herself.

This killed me. I didn't know what to do or what I had even done wrong. I was scared. Scared to ask Norah the matter and scared to know what she might tell me.

But I'd felt this before. I remembered. Oh yes, did I remember. My last relationship did not end well like this: the girl getting all secretive and discreet. The flashbacks started returning again, just like when I had first met Norah.

All of the fights and tears came back. I could see her face in Norah's. The sobbing girlfriend shaking her head no in frustration.

_"I don't know, Jake, I don't know."_

_"What kind of answer is that?! What kind of excuse is that? You don't know where you've been almost every night? You don't know where you were that you couldn't call or leave a message? A note?"_

_" I couldn't! I…I just…I didn't know…"_

_"Don't give me that, Hannah! If you want this relationship to last you can't be like this. I want to tell you everything. I want to have nothing to hide. And I can't do that if you can't. What's so hard, Hannah? Just tell me. You can trust me..."_

_"I…I'm…"_

_"You can trust me, right?"_

Trust. That's what every relationship comes down to. A simple matter of putting your life in someone else's hands and looking away. It sounds easy, doesn't it? Just to place your soul into the care of another? It sounds easy, but it isn't. I didn't know that at first. I had nothing of value to put on someone else.

My life up to that point had been simple and carefree. I had been riding on the wings of my success and not giving a hoot for anyone else. It wasn't until Hannah started to shut me out that I realized if I wanted to be with someone, I had to take them on. I would have to allow them to confide in me. And so far, in our relationship, I hadn't been doing that. And that's why…that, my friends, is the true reason why I left.

Norah found out she was pregnant a few months later. I still didn't know of Miley's visit and wouldn't know until almost three years after her death. Mrs. Scott had noticed I was still grieving and had decided to divulge the secret that Norah had taken with her.

We were ecstatic. Well, Norah was. I, on the other hand, was completely scared out of my mind. How could I be a father? I knew nothing on parenthood. Sure, I had played the part a few times in a movie here and there, but nothing serious. There had always been a stage mom right of camera, eager to get her young star back in her hands. I had always been glad to give them back.

Now here I was, stuck with my very own bundle of joy. Eventually, I started looking forward to the birth, to seeing my new son or daughter. A new little person that was all my very own.

Yet still, deep inside, I wondered what it would be like if it was Hannah and I having our first child together. Would she be blonde, like her mother? Or a subtle brown, like me? Of course, she'd have the bright blue eyes of Hannah, my favorite feature of her beautiful face.

I hated myself for having these daydreams. I'm a horrible husband, thinking of another woman besides my wife. Once again, I thought of what she would do if she ever found out. How would she handle it? Little did I know, that after Miley's visit, she wouldn't have minded one bit. Norah would have understood. Norah would have looked away, this time, with the jealousy displayed on her face.


	5. Chapter 5

**So I've really got nothing to tell you. I'll be gone the next two weeks, so don't be expecting much from me till then. Have happy last days of summer sweet peas. Soke it up- Mikella**

I left Paisley in a hurry. I didn't tell anyone, didn't lock the front door, and I didn't call my neighbor and ask them to water my plants. I just left.

Being in Paisley was suffocating me. Everywhere I turned I was reminded of Norah: the park, the theatre, the little antique store, everything. People would stop and talk to me, still reminiscing about the old days when Norah was still here. It's been three years, people! Get over it already!

I lied. I did tell one person I was leaving, Mrs. Scott. I couldn't just run off to California with my three-year-son. He had his little play group to go to and I didn't want to drag him all over looking for a girl I wasn't even sure wanted to see me. And so, his grandmother got the honor of looking after him. Thank goodness she adored little Nolan and didn't mind watching him for a few days.

When she opened the door and saw us standing there, a small suitcase with Nolan's things in it, she immediately knew something was wrong. Her usually friendly eyes turned inward, her eyebrows furrowing.

"Jake, what is this?"

I felt guilty right away. Nolan ran inside past his grandmother's legs and towards the basement that housed his favorite toys. I followed, sitting on the couch in the living room, the same couch where we had sat years before, before I even knew Norah existed.

She sat down next to me, "Jake Ryan, tell me. It's not still Norah, is it?"

I looked away, not wanting to admit the pain I still felt. I should be over this. I shouldn't be acting this way. It's been three years since the accident, yet I was reminded of it every day. The cane I used to walk, my son playing on the floor.

"I know it's been hard. Maybe I can tell you something that will help."

"What?" I was shocked. What could she possibly say to help, and why had she waited three years to do so?

"She was nice," Mrs. Scott began, "The most beautiful girl I had ever seen…"

She told me everything that Norah had told her about Miley's visit. My shock seemed to grow with each passing minute and when she came to the last part, I nearly lost it.

"The girl said that she couldn't go out as Hannah anymore. I have no idea who this Hannah is…maybe Norah told me, but for the life of me, I can't seem to remember. It was a while ago she told me this, Jake. I knew she shouldn't have kept it from you and I longed to tell you myself, but you two were happy again. With Nolan on the way, your life was perfect…" she stopped there, not wanting to add the horrible ending to a seemingly flawless story.

"Any who, do you know who this Hannah is? Or this girl? Norah was very upset when she told me…but she refused to even think about telling you what had happened."

I shook my head no, even though I knew perfectly well who both women were, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Scott, I need to go. You can watch Nolan right?" I stood up from the couch, my mind still racing from the information I had just received.

"But Jake, how long…"

I cut her off, "Oh, a few days. I don't know. Please? For me? For Norah?" I opened the door, unable to stay in the house any longer. I needed to find her, I had to know if what I had heard was true.

"Jake! Jake please…"

But I was gone. My car door slammed shut and the engine roared to life. Backing out of the driveway, I glanced one last time at Mrs. Scott. She was standing on the front porch, wearing a light summer dress over her aging body. Her hair was how it always was, white and puffy, sitting like a cloud on top of her head. But her face was different. It was scrunched up in worry and frustration. I knew I was asking too much of her, that I shouldn't be doing this on such short notice. But surely she would understand, wouldn't she? She had to. Norah had told her everything. Now I needed to know everything, and since Norah couldn't, there was only one other person for the job.

I drove into Los Angeles, exhausted from the long trip. My mind was whirling at the information I had received only hours before and I could hardly take it. All this time I had known her, she had had this secret. This grand secret that was certainly still a secret. It's not like she had confessed in the past four years. I would have heard about it, even in Paisley.

It was a wonder, an amazement. How she had handled living like that for so long, and still doing it! Miley was Hannah. Hannah was Miley. I had told countless details to Hannah about Miley, and vice versa. What had she thought about me then? All of my fears about girls and Miley I had confessed as a naïve teenager to a pop sensation that was really her.

It was ridiculous. I was fooled. By a blonde haired beauty who acted innocent and young in front of the press when she was actually hiding the biggest Hollywood secret Hollywood didn't know about.

Then it struck me. All those fights, all those arguments. They had a purpose behind them now. I finally understood where Hannah, or should I say Miley, had been coming from. She had been trying to live two lives. She had been doing a pretty good job of it, but it had at last gotten the best of her.

But what baffled me the most was her not telling me. Obviously she had told Lily and Oliver. Lola and Mike finally had a place in my mind now. They weren't just some random friends Hannah had picked up off the street. But why couldn't she have told me? I was her boyfriend. I knew both sides of her and was struggling to decide which side I loved more. Why couldn't she just confess? I would have been fine with it. Well, I don't really know how I would have reacted. But why? Why couldn't she trust me?

The street was dark when I turned the corner. The streetlights, though present in form, weren't working tonight, giving the neighborhood an eerie feeling. Her house stood alone. No cars were parked in front but they could always be in the garage.

The engine shut off, leaving me in total silence. In the distance, I could hear the crashing of the waves against the surf and a dog barking a few streets over. I didn't want to do this. Why had I even come here? Oh, that's right. I wanted to see her. Not just see her, talk to her. But what would she think? What would she do?

My finger was on the doorbell. I dropped my hand, my nerves getting the best of me. I couldn't do it.

A chair was on the front porch, and I took a seat. The whole stinkin trip and I hadn't once thought of what I was going to say, what I was going to do. Idiot. She'll punch me, I know it. Or hit me in some way. That's what girls do when they get mad, they hit. They kick and throw tantrums, scream. Oh yes, did they scream. And bite, grab and pull…

When I woke up, I couldn't figure out where I was. The sunlight was bright in my face and I sat up too quickly. My eyes blacked out for a moment, my head throbbed.

"Oohhh," I groaned, "I'm an idiot."

"I could have told you that."

Next thing I knew, I was soaking wet. Water was everywhere, me, the chair, the porch. It took me a second to realize that she had used the hose on full blast. I sat up awkwardly, my feet making squishing noises in my shoes.

"What was that for?" I wiped the water from my face, then looked up to see my attacker. I'd been expecting to see Miley, her long brown hair over her angry face, yet somehow she'd be glad to see me.

But this lady was not glad. She showed not hint of friendliness anywhere on her body. She had short blonde hair, cut into a bob and light blue eyes that were shooting daggers at me. She wasn't all that thin, but not heavy. One hand rested on her hip while the other was still in control of the hose, ready to use it again if needed.

" For sleeping on my porch. And you're Jake Ryan. My husband said I could do what I wanted with you. I chose the hose. You're just lucky he didn't come out here himself."

"Your husband?" Who was this lady? And who did she think she was? I'm an international celebrity. And who is her husband that I should be so afraid of?

I found out just then. Of course I hadn't seen him in years, but I recognized that face, that stance. He was still short, but he had grown a few inches since then. His hair was shorter than it had been, giving him an older, more adult-like appearance.

"Jackson? Where's Miley, is she inside?" I gestured towards the front door, where he'd just come out of.

"Get out, Jake. It's pointless. Go back to your 'normal' life. She's not even here."

"Then where is she? I have to know. I need to know," I was begging. I hadn't come all this way to be turned down by her brother.

Jackson looked away, started to say something then stopped. I understood. I didn't need to be told twice. Besides, Mrs. Stewart was still holding the hose.

Still dripping everywhere, I returned to my car. A slight breeze had picked up, sending shivers down my spine. It had been pointless, just like Jackson had said. I shouldn't have even come.

"Tennessee. She went home to Nashville."

I looked back in time to see the front door close, Jackson and his wife disappearing inside.


End file.
